What They Deserve
by Katta
Summary: Scott and Mystique may be enemies, but they find that their goals can actually be combined. Sequel to Good Intentions
1.

WHAT THEY DESERVE  
  
SUMMARY: Scott and Mystique may be enemies, but they find that their goals can actually be combined.  
DISCLAIMER: The X-people belong to Stan Lee, Bryan Singer and a bunch of other righteous dudes. The cops and doctors belong to me, although the names of the doctors belong to Michael Lehmann. Arsenic and Old Lace belongs to Frank Capra. The poem belongs to Bo Setterlind. An so on. (Does anyone really care?) All the events belong to me, though.  
DISTRIBUTION: If you have any of my others, you can have this. Otherwise, ask first.  
THIS IS A SEQUEL TO GOOD INTENTIONS. For those of you who haven't read that story, or have forgotten: Scott and Rogue were kidnapped by doctors who experimented on them to their powers. As a result of these experiments, Scott was blinded. The two of them managed to escape, but they had a hard time dealing with the physical and emotional trauma.  
NOTE 1: This is extremely out of canon. Even more extreme for those of you who are comic fans.  
NOTE 2: The film didn't say much about Mystique's personality, so I made one up. Also, I know that her affair with Sabretooth was over a long time ago, but since the film didn't care much for comic continuity I don't see why I should.  
  
  
Please don't lie to me.  
Scott tried to keep his voice calm, but under the circumstances he had to settle for keeping it from breaking. He was glad Jean had left the room.  
Nothing but breaths, for almost a minute. Slow, deep breaths. Did doctors always breathe like that when they had something difficult to say?  
I'm not lying, Scott. Until the swelling is down, we can't tell exactly what the damage is. But you're right. There are no chances of full recovery.  
Scott asked, trying to cling to some kind of hope.  
Hesitation before the answer.   
Funny, that was supposed to be his nickname, not his chances of ever seeing the sun again. His head spun a little, and he got this crazy notion he was in an amusement park with a big sign: *Welcome to the world of the visually impaired.* Not that he could read signs anymore.  
His link with Jean grew stronger and he knew she was coming back before she opened the door. He also knew that she knew, and when she leant down beside him, he noticed her attempt to not show her grief. Well, why shouldn't she grieve? He pictured himself at their upcoming wedding, walking with her down the aisle with his cane tapping the way. It was grotesque, impossible, but it was the way of things. All his hopes that it wouldn't come to that had proved futile. For a moment, he wished he had never had this operation at all. Every way he had learned to adapt, everything he had won back during the past six months, they suddenly seemed like so very little things, compared to the lifetime of darkness stretching out in front of him. One step forward, two steps back.  
Tears slid down his cheeks, but his jaw set. Odds were there to be beaten, not to beat you. He couldn't do anything about being blind, but he certainly wouldn't accept being helpless. Scott Summers was a fighter. Always had been, always would be.  
  
**********  
  
Scott was relieved when he found a bench to sit down on. Although going out among people was actually more fun than he had thought, it was also exhausting, because there were so many things around him and so little to help him orientate. San Francisco was *big*.  
It was also located in a state that had recently come up with some pretty nasty anti-mutant laws, which had made him eager to get Jean out of there and her unwilling to leave. Eventually, his stubbornness had proved greater than hers, and she had folded to his arguments. She was needed at the school, the professor had specifically called and told her that. Just because he needed to stay for observation a week or two didn't mean she had to be there too. She could always come back and pick him up later. Nobody was going to find out he was a mutant. The only way they could do that was by DNA tests, and they only tested people they arrested. All he had to do was not get arrested. Surely she trusted him not to get arrested?  
She did, and she reluctantly agreed to go home, leaving her cellphone with him so that she could always get in touch.  
All of his arguments had been true, but there was something he hadn't told her. On the news there had been lots of discussions about the new mutant laws and the committee of politicians, scientists and others who were assigned to plan what to do with the captured mutants. One of the members of that committee was a Doctor Jason Dean. The name meant nothing to her, and he didn't tell her what it meant to him. He didn't know what to do about it, or if he could do anything to stop it.  
Scott reached for his portable CD player, trying to get his mind off the laws. The kids had given him a home-made CD with personal greetings to keep him company. Some of them were so optimistic they were painful to listen to now, but others were a real comfort. He counted quietly to himself as he fastforwarded to 15, and Sarah's voice reading a translation of a European poem.  
  
*Never again a mean word about broken violins!  
Once, I heard the Master himself play  
having only two strings to use.  
He stood among the trees  
playing his favourite instrument  
hymn after hymn, song after song  
crystallized pain  
and I knew:  
That violin was me!  
Others wouldn't have considered me worth playing,  
but in His hands I was good enough.*  
  
He leaned back, listening to the words while trying to maintain a poker face. He refused to cry in public. Sympathy from strangers was one of the things he didn't think he could ever learn to accept. All he wanted to do was fight them off, scream at them to leave him alone, to not make him more of an outcast than he already was. Real support was different, like the one he was getting from the kids. That helped him. Pity just made things worse.  
One of the people walking by stopped in front of his bench and turned to him.  
Scott, honey, fancy meeting you here! an affected female voice said.  
He frowned, knowing for certain he had never heard that voice before.  
I'm sorry, I... he started, but didn't get any further before the woman slid her arm around his shoulders and something very cold touched his neck.  
Come with me, she said in a low voice. No tricks, or I'll blow your brains out. Is that clear, Cyclops?  
He did as she told him, fumbling for his cane without finding it. Who the hell are you?  
She laughed, pushing him gently forward. Oh, that's right, you have never seen me in this shape before.  
Shape? Oh no.   
She pushed him to the ground and sat down on his chest. That action alone told him that they were now out of public sight. He could probably wrestle her down, but first he had to get that gun away from his neck.  
What do you want? he asked.  
Victor was arrested this morning, she said, and her voice shivered a little for the first time. You're going to blast him out for me.  
Sabretooth arrested? Any other time, he would have considered this good news. But with the laws running now... poor bastard.  
I can't.  
The gun pressed down harder. Aren't you supposed to be smart, Cyclops? Now, these people know I exist, so they're not letting anyone in. With your help, that won't be a problem, but I have to admit, I'm pretty desperate. Refusing to help me would not be a smart move.  
I'm not refusing. I can't help you. I was caught myself six months ago by some doctors who destroyed my optic nerve. I don't have my powers anymore.  
He could feel the uncertainty running through her body. Destroyed? But then how can you... Silence.   
Blind. Yeah.  
In astonishment at this revelation, she lost concentration just enough for Scott to kick her off and rip the gun from her hand before she had time to shoot. They both rose, facing each others, waiting for the next move.  
It was Scott that finally made it, by slowly taking off his glasses. Even though he couldn't see her, he guessed what Mystique's thoughts must be.  
I was telling you the truth. My beams are gone and I can't see. But if there's any other way I can help, I'm willing to do it. Not because you held a gun to my face, but because even though I think Sabretooth belongs in jail, he certainly doesn't belong in a California one.  
A short silence, and then her voice, low. Okay. I could use an accomplice.  
He was surprised at her willingness to trust him. She didn't ask any questions, didn't treat it like a trap. This must really have gotten her off balance. For some reason, it had never occurred to him that the members of the Brotherhood could care as much about each other as the X-men did. If it had been Jean in that jail... he felt sick at the thought, and reached out a hand to Mystique.  
I'm really sorry, he said.  
She pulled back, offended. What are you, feeling sorry for me? I'm getting pity from a *powerless* mutant? What kind of pathetic wimp do you take me for?  
She started to walk off, fast and annoyed, and he called after her.  
Could you please help me out of here?  
She stopped and returned, taking his arm in a rather harsh way. Shouldn't you have one of those canes or something?  
I do. It's over by the bench where you attacked me.  
she said again, her voice sullenly irritated the way it is when you feel stupid. Okay, we'll go get it, and then we'll plan something. I hope you're as good a tactic as you claim.  
It struck him that Mystique seemed to be a rather troublesome ally. But then again, he thought ironically, what had he expected?  
  
**********  
  
Why are you slowing down?  
Mystique's impatience was refreshening in a way, but he had a feeling he would tire of it real soon. It wasn't *his* fault Sabretooth had been arrested, and he didn't much care for her way of behaving as if he was stalling on purpose.  
This area is unknown to me, I need to locate.  
There's nothing in front of you.  
That's not the point. If he moved too quickly, he would miss most of the sounds, the smells, the way the ground felt below his feet, in short, everything that told him what this street looked like. Not even his friends understood that need completely. To Mystique he couldn't explain it at all.  
She sighed deeply. The motel is only a block away, can't we just get there?  
If it's that close, you have time to wait.  
When they had reached the motel and she lead him inside, he deliberately slowed down even more, even though there was actually no need for it. Childish, certainly, but he wasn't going to let this murderous wench boss him.  
Oh for crying out loud, she started, won't you...  
He couldn't hold back a grin, and she stopped midsentence, letting go of his arm.  
Are you fucking with me? she asked. Strangely enough, and for the first time, he detected a trace of laughter in her voice.  
A little.  
There was no other reply to that than a brief snort, but when she grabbed his arm again, her grip was softer, and she stopped harassing him.  
The room had a humid smell, but seemed okay for a motel room. Mystique directed Scott to a chair and then sat down on the bed, which complained loudly through rusty springs. There was a long silence. Considering Mystique's eagerness to get here, that was unexpected. Finally, Scott asked:  
So, who's body are you using now?  
I don't know her name, she answered. Remember how your shaggy friend stabbed me? There was a Jane Doe in the same hospital room as me, who died while I was there. She's about the same size as me, so her shape is easy to use.  
What name are you using then?  
My own. Raven Darkholme. A sharper tone in her voice. Why are you asking so much?  
I just wanted to know what to call you.  
She thought for a second. Well, you can call me Raven and I'll call you Scott.  
Sounds good to me.  
Silence again. It wasn't so strange they didn't know what to say to each other, Scott thought. Last time they had met, they had tried to kill each other. But then again, a lot had been different last time they met, and even though they had separate ideas on how to treat humans, there were no differences when it came to atrocities committed to mutants.  
How much do you know about Sabretooth? Scott asked.  
He's kept in state prison, she said, mimicking his neutral tone of voice. I was in senator Kelly's shape when they caught him, and, unfortunately, I blew that cover. Stupid thing to do.  
He flinched at the bitterness in her voice. Listen, My... Raven, you can't blame yourself...  
Oh, can't I? she said, biting voice. They know I exist! I can't get through to him! If only I had kept the cover, maybe the senator's influence could have helped him somehow... although I doubt it. Quick breaths, almost sobs. He prayed that she wouldn't cry. He was lousy at dealing with his own emotions and worse at dealing with other people's, especially some ally that had recently been an enemy. Fortunately, her voice soon stabilised again. Do you know what they do to mutants in this state? A positive DNA test is enough to put you away. With a record like Victor's, he's lucky if he gets a trial before they kill him or lock him up forever. I don't know which would be worse. Victor can't stand being caged, he'll go nuts in a cell.  
Scott noticed that she had used the word , fitting to Sabretooth's feral tendencies. At another time, he might have looked down on the man for those. Now he didn't. In Raven's voice, there was something that reminded him that animals of prey have pride and grandeur, and that a cage is always too small for them. An animal is not less than a man, it could be more.  
We'll get him out, he said, trying to sound comforting.  
she asked.  
I don't know.  
Not much of help, then.  
He realised that when he had offered his help, that was what she had accepted. Sympathy was never part of the deal. That was something he could completely respect -- but it would have been easier if he had actually known how to help her.  
  
**********  
  
He had gotten used to the examinations by now and was no longer stuck in dreadful memories every time he approached a doctor. At first there had been a jolt of panic every time, but now there was none. Not until this day, when a somber doctor told him it was time to go home.  
There is really nothing else we can do for you.  
He couldn't go home. First of all, he had promised Raven to help her, and he was a man of his word. Second, and more important, he couldn't just walk away when people were capturing mutants. Next time it could be New York State, and himself.  
Shouldn't I stay for a little longer? The gym sessions have really been useful.  
That wasn't a lie, either. Since he had been blinded, he had taken great effort in keeping up his physical standard, but it was easier here, where he was helped in his training by people who had dealt with blind athletes before.  
You don't actually need professional help to uphold those. You know the routine, you can ask anyone. Listen, I understand that this is frightening to you, but sooner or later...  
When Scott realised the misunderstanding, it startled him so much he missed the rest. He supposed he would have been frightened, had there not been too many other things on his mind.  
We'll call someone to come pick you up.  
No. I'll do that.  
In the thoughts chasing through his mind, he had found something useful. Obviously, if he was picked up by Jean or one of his other colleagues, none of the staff would bother to make sure he was actually on the plane. If he could only convince him to let him leave alone, he could sneak away and stay in town. He would have to tell Jean some plausible lie about why he wouldn't come home for a while, and lying wasn't his strongest side, but he could always ask Raven.  
Of course. That was it. He wouldn't have to go alone after all.  
I'll call... Jean, right away, he said, standing up.  
He was glad that he wasn't offered help. It would have been hard to explain the local call. Raven had given him the number to her motel room and he had tried to memorize it. He could only hope he remembered it correctly. Since he was using his cellphone, there was really no risk anyone would notice the number was incorrect, but he still thought the sound of each button pressed down was so loud someone would soon come and say: Hey, that's not a New York number!  
The voice in the other end of the line. Raven Darkholme.  
Please, don't let anybody have heard that.  
Hi, Jean, he said, in an attempt to sound normal. It's me. There sending me home now. He had to say more, they expected more. There hasn't been any change... but we didn't expect that either.  
No, I guess we didn't. She was playing along, which was good, but her voice told him she didn't quite understand what was going on.  
So, Jean, could you fly over and pick me up?  
she said. I'll be there first thing tomorrow.  
Great! Can't wait to see you again. It wasn't until he hung up that he realised how very ironic those words were. He had begun to use words like in his vocabulary again, but right now his lifelong and complete blindness had been confirmed, it should be too painful.  
The reason it wasn't had something to do with the fact that he had been expecting and fearing this moment for the past six months, but it had a lot more to do with something else. He was involved in a dangerous, illegal and almost hopeless plan to save mutants in trouble. For the first time since what had felt like a lifetime, he felt like Cyclops again.  
  
**********  
  
He knew Raven was good, but he hadn't quite realised that she was *that* good. When she walked in that door with Jean's way of walking, voice like Jean's, the hand that took his exactly like Jean's, it was hard even for him to remember that it wasn't really Jean. The only thing that stopped his heart from beating faster was that there was no link, an absence as intrusive as if she had suddenly spoken with a bass voice.  
She didn't kiss like Jean, either. It shocked him when her lips brushed against his, but then he realised that it made perfect sense. If it had been Jean, they would certainly have kissed, and so he pressed closer instead of pulling away, giving it every bit of passion he could. It must have been enough, because she gasped a little. Maybe he had overdone it. He had a feeling it was more of a private kiss than a public one.  
A man's hand taking his. Goodbye, Scott. It's been good to have you here. No apologies for the lack of results. None were needed. He knew they had given it their best shot, and it wasn't hard for him to smile at the unseen face.  
It's been good to be here.  
Then he followed Raven outside, and by now the lack of linking was so fierce he was amazed nobody else noticed it. He had to learn optimistic thinking -- but you didn't become a good leader by making half-hearted plans and rely on hope.  
They hadn't walked long before Raven stopped.  
he asked. He knew they hadn't reached her motel yet.  
I should change. I can't very well leave my room as a brunette and come back a redhead, can I? Cover for me.  
She gently pushed him aside to hide her from view, and it struck him how much her way of treating him had changed over the past few days. They hadn't come up with something really useful yet, but she knew his helpfulness was for real, and she treated him as an ally instead of a temporarily useful enemy.  
she said after a minute or so, her voice back to what it had sounded like for the past couple of days. I'm done, let's go.  
By now he knew the way to the motel and no longer had to slow her down. Bakery -- fountain -- rusty vane -- and here we are. He sat down in her worn old armchair and took a deep breath.  
Time for the hard part. What am I going to tell Jean?  
Raven moved around in the room, and he heard the snap of his suitcase opening. I guess the truth is out of the question?  
Definitely. Do you mind not messing with my stuff?  
She didn't listen. Yeah, Victor's not going to like it when he realises you're helping me out, I guess your people feel the same way. You could always say you met a woman.  
Funny. Please get out of my stuff, I need to keep them in order.  
Something was thrown into his lap. What book is this?  
He sighed and let his fingers move over it. Oliver Twist.  
Good one. You can actually read that stuff?  
Slowly, but yeah. What's all this about? he asked, indicating her restlessness.  
I think better when I'm doing something. Okay, here it is. You simply tell Jean you need to stay in town a little longer, talk to a few people, get some stuff... tell her you're getting a dog. Are you getting a dog?  
No. But it's not a bad idea, that kind of thing could work. Thanks. He picked up the phone, but before he dialed the number, he said: One more thing.  
  
Next time you need to think, use your own stuff.  
  
**********  
  
He didn't know if Jean believed a word he said. It was too far away for their link to work, and he hoped he had sounded believable. Raven claimed he had, and Raven was a great liar, so she ought to know. That didn't stop his body from tensing every time the phone called. It could be Jean, demanding the truth, and then what would he say? This was none of his business anyway, it ought to be Magneto... but Magneto was in a prison even more secure than Sabretooth's.  
A phone signal made him jerk immediately, and he had to force his breaths to slow down before he took it.   
Nothing else, but with those vowels, he didn't need anything else.  
Rogue! Hi! What's up?  
Not much. Pause. I miss you. We all do.  
He bit his lip. I miss you too, but there are some things I have to do. It was even harder to lie to Rogue than to lie to Jean, and so he stayed at this half-truth.  
Yeah, I know, I... Her voice broke, and he heard muffled sobs. Oh, shit. Even if he had been there for her, he would have felt awful to hear her cry. Now, knowing that there was nothing he could do, it was even worse.  
Are you okay?  
Am *I* okay!? Now the sobs weren't even muffled anymore. You're the one in a house full of doctors... and they couldn't even help you...  
Rogue, please, he said helplessly. The last thing he wanted was the girl to cry for him.  
Attempts to quiet down. I'm sorry. I just wish there was something I could do. You've done so much for me.  
That simple statement, that warmth in her voice. *Oh, Rogue, how could you ever think you're not doing anything for me?* His thoughts just wouldn't become words. Just don't cry. I'm... He couldn't say that he was okay. Considering the circumstances, he was fine, but it was pretty crappy circumstances. We knew this could happen.  
The door opened, and Raven's rushed steps came over the floor. Scott, this is getting serious.  
He hushed her and told Rogue: I have to get off.  
Who was that?  
Just a nurse. Take care, okay? He turned off the phone and then turned to Raven. Even though he heard her better with his side to her face, habit was hard to break. What is it?  
She read out loud from what must be a newspaper. 'Prized MD on the 'wildman' case. Although the work of the California Committee of Mutant Control (CCMC) has shown great result, the case with the captured mutant wildman still puzzles police and scientists. Medical expert Elizabeth Finn has been called in from New York State...'  
Hold it, Scott interrupted, feeling strangely cold. What was that name?  
Elizabeth Finn, Raven repeated.  
Betty Finn. He stood up, too distressed to sit. We have to stop them. We have to get him out of there.  
That's what I've been saying all along.  
He shook his head. You don't understand. Betty Finn designed the crystal that ruined my eyesight. There's no telling what damage she can do to him.  
Shocked silence filled the room for a while, but then there was a thoughtful question from Raven:  
So you know the woman?  
What kind of a question was that? Scott had to bite his lip so he wouldn't start yelling at her. His voice was cold when he replied. Every day, I wake up to the effects of her work. Every night I can still hear the voices of those doctors, feel them touching me... So, yeah, I know her.  
Raven's voice was still calm, if anything a little milder. Do you know her enough to teach me to be her?  
  
**********  
  
Scott paced back and forward in the motel room, waiting for Raven to call. Everything in his life seemed to circle around that cellphone. He shouldn't have let her go through with this. If anything went wrong he would never find out. He wasn't good at staying behind while other people acted, but he couldn't very well come along. Raven was an excellent shapeshifter and a fine liar, but if he was with her, Betty Finn would most certainly have been suspicious anyway.  
Why did it take so long? She was supposed to call as soon as she had gone through with the kidnapping. Something must have happened. Maybe she ran in to someone who knew the reporter whose features she had borrowed, someone who could tell the difference.  
That was ridiculous. When Mystique was in a good shape, no one could tell the difference, not unless she let her tongue slip, and she was really good at avoiding that.  
Finally, the awaited signal came, and he threw himself at the phone.   
He had expected the man's voice she had when leaving, but instead he got a slow, husky, cultivated, feminine one that made his spine chill. I'm done.  
His mouth was dry, and even though he knew it had to be Raven, he couldn't help asking: Who is this?  
It's me, stupid. I did as you said and kept her alive, so I had to wait until we got to her hotel before I could take over. It's the Palace Hotel. Take a cab and meet me here. Oh, and your name is Mr. Rochester.  
Scott had to laugh. You're kidding me.  
Well, it's the first thing I came up with! I had to rearrange the reservation to get a double room, and they asked what my 'friend' was called.  
Double room. Scott hadn't thought that far. It made more sense than two singles, but the only thing that made him more tense than the thought of sharing a bed with Mystique was the thought of sharing it with the doctor.  
Hey, you're the one who didn't want me to kill her, you have to help me keep watch. So to speak. Besides, it's a whole suite, you could sleep in a chair.  
I guess. I'll be right over then.  
Do that. Bye!  
After a quick call for a cab, he shut off the phone and grabbed their belongings, grateful that they were already packed. *That* had been less than hilarious. Raven had become rather put off when she had packed his things and he had repacked them, allowing her only to pile them. He could understand her reaction. Not only was it a waste of time to do it twice, but this was the first time she had tried to do him a favour, and he had rejected it. Even though their behaviour now was most definitely friendly, they still didn't understand each other. Maybe they never would.  
  
**********  
  
After dealing with a friendly taxi driver, a friendly receptionist, friendly piccolos, the Devil and his grandmother (all very friendly), Scott knocked on the hotel room door.  
Just a moment! That voice again, and after a minute or so, the door opened. Hello, S-Simon! He heard the vague slip of her tongue, even though the piccolo probably didn't. I'm so glad you're here. Come on in!  
She gently pushed him inside, and then the changes in her voice told him she had turned to the piccolo. Thank you for your help.  
Footsteps left and Raven closed the door.  
Where is she? he asked as soon as the piccolo's footsteps had faded.  
In the bedroom, chained to the bed. Raven now spoke with a different voice, one he hadn't heard in quite a while, and he realised she was back in her original shape.  
  
I got some manacles from a kinky store. Raven laughed a little. The bitch thought I was trying to seduce her when I followed her here. She seemed rather flattered, maybe she wouldn't have minded the manacles if I had only undressed her.  
Scott frowned. He didn't usually mind joking in a stressed situation, not even dirty jokes, but this was different. Disoriented in the strange room, he took a few trying steps.  
You try kidnapping a person in a hotel elevator, Raven said , defensive to his dislike. Why didn't you let me kill her? She probably deserves to die anyway.  
Lots of people deserve to die. That doesn't give you the right to act as jury, judge and executioner. He couldn't find the bedroom door and was getting edgy.  
Raven's hand on his arm, calming him down, had a cool roughness that wasn't quite leathery but almost. He realized that he had never actually touched her in her real shape before.  
I need to talk to her.  
Without replying, she led him to the bedroom. There was someone else inside, someone who gave a surprised gasp.  
Dr. Finn, meet my associate, Raven said in a taunting voice. I believe you two have met before.  
A rattle of chains indicated that the victim tried to escape. What do you want with me? Her voice was low, but panicked.  
I for one don't want anything, Raven said softly. Just the opportunity to use your body without intervention. I'd be just as happy seeing you dead. And, just to repeat the basic rules, if you scream, try to escape, try to evoke attention or behave less than well in any other way, you will die.  
Scott didn't like the way Raven used threats, it was too much like torture, but he didn't object. He just took a few steps forward. I want something. But what was it he wanted? Answers -- but he had them all. Every despicable thing they had done to him, they had explained thoroughly first. What they were doing, why they were doing it, why they were right. Regret, maybe. As if she would show any. For all he knew, she could have experimented on hundreds of mutants. But she remembered him, that gasp had told him that. His fate mattered to her, it *had* to matter. I want you to look at me, and know what you have done.  
She started protesting immediately, in a reasoning tone despite her obvious fear, as if she was having a lecture. The crystal I invented was designed to stop the effects of your mutation, which, I might add, was an extremely dangerous one. From that point of view it was successful. As for your... She fumbled for words, apparently unable to use any of the obvious ones. That was an unfortunate side effect, that...  
*Side* effect? You're talking about my life! Every single second of every single day for the rest of my life I will have to live blind because of you people! That is not a side effect!  
He couldn't stand it anymore and turned to leave. He sat down on the first chair he found, leaning his head in his hands. One step away from hyperventilating.  
Raven's footsteps weren't her usual energetic ones as she walked in and closed the door behind her. She seemed almost cautious. *Please don't let her talk to me.*  
If you don't want to go through with this, I understand.  
We have to get him out.  
Yes, but I could still kill her.  
He should have known she would come to that.   
A deep sigh, then a short silence. I'm not exactly keen on taking all the watching hours, but I could do it.  
Second time she tried to make him a favour, and he rejected it again. He was Cyclops, he wasn't going to be intimidated by some doctor. No, I can do it. He hoped that was true. Especially since he would have to tell Raven everything to prepare her for being Dr. Finn. She had said she would need details, but he wasn't sure she wanted them, and he was positive he didn't want to tell.  
As if any of them had a choice.  
  
**********  



	2. 

**********  
  
Any other flaws?  
For the past hour he had drilled Raven in how to be Betty Finn, every aspect he could remember. Now she knew every she had to know, her way of speaking was perfect, her moves were perfect from what he could tell, but there was still something missing. He leaned back, pondering her appearance one piece at a time.  
You don't smell right.  
She chuckled. Now you sound like Wolverine. What's wrong with my smell?  
No smoke. Betty Finn was a heavy smoker, and Raven had gotten the voice, but not the smell.  
Alright, just a minute. She went into the bedroom, and he heard her get redressed. Her mutant ability allowed her to imitate any clothing, but apparently cigarette smoke was too much for her. Coming back, she held her arm to his face.   
Much better.  
Her hand almost touched him, and he felt his body go tense. Next to her voice, those hands was what he knew best of Dr. Finn's appearance, and what he liked the least. He recalled the times before the operation, the impersonal touch by almighty hands and not even any faces attached to them.  
The real Dr. Finn he would never even have considered touching voluntarily, but the simple knowledge that this was Raven, even if it didn't feel like it, made him give in to his curiosity. He needed to know that face. Slowly he followed the hand to its shoulder and then up to the head, running his fingers over her face. With long hair that was taken up, small metal-framed glasses, a fine Roman nose and a softly curved chin, she was most definitely good looking, but the coldness shone through even in Raven's version.  
Am I satisfying? she asked. The voice might have been Dr. Finn's, but the tone was Raven's, with that constant touch of sensuality. Without thinking, he raised his hand and slapped her so hard she stumbled backwards, and he heard her fall into a chair.  
Scott had never hit a woman before in his life, except in battle situations, and when his mind caught up with his body he gasped, shocked at his own ferocity.  
I'm... I'm so sorry, he stammered.  
During everything he had taught Raven, he had stayed calm, avoided any thought but what facts could be necessary for her to know. Never mind how those facts affected him, never mind the nightmares he had far too often, and that he knew Rogue had too. This was a mission, emotions were not beneficial.  
He had hit an unarmed woman for no obvious reason. He had always thought that was something only mindless brutes did, and he knew it was inexcusable. Yet he had done it.  
You... be careful when you talk to him, he said, indicating the meeting she would have with Dr. Dean, the one that, if she was good enough, would grant them permission to enter the prison. It was another thing he had to send her out on without being able to keep watch over her. He was supposed to help her, but instead he let her do all the dirty work. And now he had hit her.  
I will. She walked up to him, and her hands, now back to mutant, touched his face. If it had been me they had done it to, I would have wanted them dead. I don't know if you're a God damned hero or just stupid, but I got to admire you.  
She pulled away her hands again. I'm going to be late.  
He knew exactly how hard he had hit her, and was amazed at how lightly she took it. There will be a shiner.  
I can disguise one.  
They could both hide their hurt, they would both pretend like this never happened. Mission comes first, as always.  
  
**********  
  
He had let her use the bathroom. Usually, when she claimed she had to go, Raven would hand her a pot and take of her pants, but he wasn't prepared to do that. On the other hand, he couldn't very well let her lie there and wet her pants, so he took the manacle off the bed. Her first reaction was to run, but he grabbed her instantly and locked her up again.  
Do you need to go or not? he asked harshly.  
  
Then don't fight me.  
He released her again, but this time he chained the loose end of the manacle to his own wrist, and on the way to the bathroom he ran his free hand over the coffee table to find the gun Raven had left there. So far he had refused to use it even for intimidation, but he was not the kind to turn weak in a difficult situation.  
I'll shoot you if you make any trouble, he said, and he meant it. He probably wouldn't shoot to kill, but there was no need for her to know that.  
That kept her down for a while, but when she had finished what she needed to do and they were about to leave the bathroom, she took another chance and managed to hit the gun out of his hand. She was stronger than he had expected -- or maybe it was just fear. He threw them both to the ground and pounded his elbows in her chest.  
There had been footsteps outside, but he had barely noticed them. Not until he heard a hoarse laughter and the exclamation: He stiffed, and seconds later a key rattled in the lock.  
One move, one sound, and you're dead, he whispered to Dr. Finn. The gun was out of his reach, but if necessary, he wouldn't need it. With one hand he forced her down, and with the other he kept her mouth shut.  
The door opened and there were voices right outside the bathroom door.  
So, tell me about this new partner of yours, Dr. Dean said. Seems to me he's doing more than financing your projects. How come I haven't heard of him earlier?  
Do I usually discuss my personal life with you? she asked, and Scott grimaced hearing the playful tone in her voice. That flirty enjoyment was more Raven than the doctor, and he hoped she didn't take it too far.  
Dr. Dean sounded awkward. I know you resented what we... what happened, with Ronnie, but Heather had a point.  
You'd think after all that time he spent staring down her cleavage, she'd be on his side, Raven said shortly, and Scott realized exactly how amazing she was. All he had told her was that the two doctors who spent most time with him and Rogue, Dr. Sawyer and Dr. Chandler, had seemed a little attracted to each other. Yet, when she talked like that, it was as if she knew as much as Dr. Dean did. No wonder that she had managed to pull off the Senator Kelly charade for so long.  
Something tickled Scott's fingers, and he realized that Dr. Finn was crying. That surprised him. It wasn't as if he was really hurting her or anything.  
Do we have to talk about that? A touch of tenderness in his voice. Oh, wonderful, now they were flirting with each other. Everything went well today. We haven't been able to talk like civil people for ages. I miss that. I always found you a very talented woman.  
Raven's back brushed against the bathroom door. Apparently the doctor was making a move. Dr Finn's weeping had moved on to sobs, and although Scott still held his hand over her mouth, he feared that something might be heard through the door.  
A sharp breath outside, and then Raven's voice, cold: I think you should leave, Jason.  
A pleading:   
I'm grateful for your help, and I assure you that I will do my best at this project. A dismissal worthy of the original Dr. Finn, and without any signs of listening to his protests, the door opened and shut.  
Seconds later, the bathroom door was flung open. What the *hell* are you doing, humping the hostage on the bathroom floor?  
Scott stood up and dragged Dr. Finn with him. I'm not 'humping' anybody, he said. She had to go to the bathroom, what was I supposed to do?  
The usual! Raven said. Make her use the pot.  
I'm not pulling off that woman's pants.  
Raven didn't argue any more, instead she turned her anger to the doctor. What are you blubbering about?  
she mumbled.  
It's not like I even hurt her, Scott snapped. He had rarely found it as difficult to keep control as now, forced close to an enemy that had hurt him so much, but he had succeeded, and her whimpering annoyed him.  
She's not talking about you, Raven replied, and she leaned closer to the other woman. Didn't bother you to cripple a few mutants, but I guess it's not as much fun when they turn on their own, is it? You sicken me.  
She left the bathroom and called out for Scott.  
Get her back to the bed and come over here. We're should prepare for the breakout.  
  
**********  
  
She was a good driver, keeping a steady speed and making the curves so softly he could barely feel them. Apparently she wasn't half as nervous as he was. It was that need of control again. She had told him about her arrangements, every detail. Dr. Finn was not only still chained up, but also gagged. The do not disturb sign was on the door handle, the cleaning lady had been bribed to leave the room alone for a while -- who cared what she thought the reason was? -- Raven had taken care of everything, it was all under control. But he wasn't the one controlling it, and that made him nervous.  
*Focus. Get all that out of your head. Concentrate on the mission.* In her purse, he knew, there was a document signed by Jason Dean, allowing Elizabeth Finn and Simon Rochester entry to the prison. That would get them in. Getting them out would be a matter of force.  
Do you miss your powers? Her voice was neutral, as in casual conversation, but the question was unexpected.  
  
I was thinking... even if they had succeeded, would you still be doing this? Do you miss your powers or just your sight?  
Did he? He recalled the endless times he has cursed his visor, wished he didn't need it. The constant fear of losing it and maybe hurting someone. His entire personality was formed by this. What was this need of control if not the urge to master the one thing that was always out of his hands? People would call him cursed, and he wouldn't argue with it, beause he often *felt* that way.  
His answer was low; he didn't know how to explain it.  
I thought so. There was a short silence before she continued: They'll never get that, how we can be proud of being mutants. For them, we're just some defects that need correction.  
Although he agreed with her bitterness, he felt annoyed.  
You should talk.  
What's that supposed to mean?  
Well, what's the difference between what they did and what you tried to do? 'The world will be so much better if *they* are more like *us*.' Forcing a happy ending without asking yourself who it is happy for, and certainly not stopping to check if it will actually work properly.  
For the first time, there was a slight jerking motion when the car took a curve. Don't take this out on me. At least we tried to do something instead of just hanging around waiting for people to suddenly decide that mutants are cosy little beings after all, as if the discrimination would ever stop unless we did something.  
It won't ever stop! Do you honestly think, by turning people into mutants, you would make them better people? People will always find a reason to hate each other. It's the hate you have to work away, not the reasons. And you don't do that by violence.  
Oh, but you do it by licking the boot that kicks you?  
For the next few minutes they both talked at once, without listening, then there was another silence.  
I thought we were staying away from ideology, Raven finally said.  
  
Deep sigh. So, Simon...  
He smiled a little. So, Betty?  
Are you ready?  
Not really.  
Me neither. But here we are.  
She pulled the car over and helped him out, and he took her hand to try and show her he had meant that apology. She drew a shaky breath.  
she said, using his real name for the first time since this charade started, if we manage this, I promise to always spare your life.  
He understood. She couldn't promise never to fight him. They would always be too different to agree, and their teams were still enemies. Same here.  
Think we'll make it? Uncertainty. Sabretooth must really mean a lot to her.  
Sure we will. Hesitating, he dared to ask what he had been wondering all the time: You two... are you lovers?  
Her answer was barely a whisper, and she walked away in a fast pace before he had time to react. I have a child with him.  
  
**********  
  
He had no time to question her further and probably wouldn't have anyway, since she seemed to regret ever saying anything. The only thing she told him before fully taking on her act as Betty Finn was to take off his glasses.  
he asked, not particularly willing to give in to her request.  
If they see that you're actually blind, it will make them less suspicious.  
Oh, marvellous. He should have known there was nothing she couldn't use in a plan. However, considering the change of attitude people had given him lately, she had a point. Sighing a little, he folded up the glasses and put them in the pocket of his jacket. His face felt oddly naked. Still, he guessed it was worth it, if the mission succeeded.  
Not if. There was no if. It had to succeed. The bare thought of someone else in his situation, anyone else, even Sabretooth, was sickening. He would never be able to explain to the X-men why he did this, teaming up with an enemy to get another enemy out of jail. Even Xavier probably wouldn't understand; after all, he had let Magneto stay in his prison and those two were *friends*. Only Rogue would know exactly why he did it.  
He kept his hand on Raven's arm, too deep in his thoughts to register much around him, but he wasn't too far gone to notice when they reached the main entrance. Some guy opened for them, and when Raven gave him their names and documents he let them inside, having them wait in some kind of hallway while he called on people to pick them up.  
Raven went through an enormous effort to get Scott comfortably seated in a chair, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise. She wasn't exactly the fussy type, and she knew more than well that he could manage on his own. Then it struck him that she was trying to make him appear helpless. It wasn't an act he had done previously, and he didn't like it much, but he went along with it.  
A rather heavy someone came towards them, and the inner door opened with a buzzing sound.  
Dr. Finn? I'm detective lieutentant Benton. Glad to have you here. And Mr... Rochester?  
The question mark was barely apparent. Diplomatic fellow. He clearly hadn't expected more than one person, but didn't want to let it show.  
That's me, Scott said, smiling. He didn't offer his hand. Just because he didn't like this game didn't mean he didn't know how to play it. The policeman would reach out his own automatically, and then feel embarrassed when Scott didn't notice. And when you're embarrassed, you don't ask questions.  
Simon is my associate, Raven said, and even though her voice had the icy shade of the person she imitated, there was something warmer in it that made Scott long for Jean. There was no way Benton could have missed it.  
Mostly doing the finances, Scott said, but I'm interested in the science as well.  
Oh, okay, the young man said, clearly not able to enter a discussion of that topic. I'll take you to captain Willis and we'll talk through the formalities. Then you'll get to see the wildman. I mean... meet. Sorry.  
Normally, Scott wouldn't even have noticed the slip and the half apology following it, he was too used to it, but now he was too tense not to. He was more used to direct fighting than deception, and was feeling extremely self-conscious. Thank you.  
They went through the hallway and entered an office, where an older man greeted them.  
We've met before, he said to Raven, and Scott's heart skipped a beat. That was really the last thing they needed.  
Fortunately, the man continued: I don't expect you to remember me. I was part of the team that looked for those mutants that got away in New York.  
Oh, right! Raven sounded unsure the way you do when you don't remember but don't want to let it show. Too bad you never found them. Especially considering that the girl robbed a man.  
Yeah, Jesus... The captain chuckled a little. Clothes and all, but left his car. Mighty considerate of her. I heard one of your crew had helped them?  
Ronnie Sawyer. We took care of that. Can we get on with this?  
Of course. They sat down around a table, and Scott listened to the scraping of pens and soft thuds of stamps. These people knew there was a shapeshifter around, and yet they didn't suspect a thing, because Raven was so talented and well-informed. And himself? Since they trusted her they trusted him, and also, as Raven had pointed out, it probably helped that they could verify that his eyes were actually unseeing. No trick there.  
The captain had turned to him, considerant and slightly afraid to offend. Are you sure you should go in there? The wildman is dangerous, and we can't sedate him.  
I'm sure I will be fine. It wasn't Sabretooth that made his mouth dry. He wouldn't have liked having to fight him now, without his powers, but since they would be on the same side, it wouldn't matter. The cops, on the other hand, may not have superpowers, but they had guns, and it's hard to dodge a gun when you don't know where it's aiming.  
He had promised Jean an easter wedding, and he had no intention of making it a funeral instead. Getting Sabretooth out of here was the prime mission, but everyone staying alive was a close second.  
  
**********  
  
They walked through the corridors, two guards trailing them. Scott barely listened to Raven's faked entusiasm as she told Benton everything you could do to a subject with enhanced healing ability. It made him feel a little sick. He wondered if she actually knew what she was talking about or just had a really morbid imagination. The worst part was, the cop acted like there was nothing peculiar at all about her suggestions.  
There was a slight stop in action as Benton opened the last door, and then they entered the room in front of Sabretooth's cell -- his as Raven had put it. Scott had heard his growl for quite some time, an now those growl grew louder. They all stopped. There was a guard right next to Scott, his hand almost touched the man's side and when he moved his fingers a little they brushed against a holster. He softly moved his cane over to his left hand and moved the right one a little closer to the gun. The guard didn't react. Okay from here on it was improvisation only.  
Okay, here he is, Benton said, and Sabretooth roared at the man. I don't quite know how you're going to deal with him, though. He's very strong, and as I said, almost impossible to sedate...  
Scott was standing behind the others, but it still didn't take long for Sabretooth to recognize him. What are you doing here -- *Cyclops*? he snarled.  
No time to lose. In the startled pause that followed he question, Scott grabbed the gun that had been tickling his hand, and raised it to the guard's head.  
Breaking you out. The guard tried to grab him, but he avoided the arm with ease. You'd think a policeman wouldn't be so noisy. Nice and easy, now.  
There was a thud from the other side of the room. Scott's hand didn't flicker, but he moved his head slightly. he called.  
I'm okay, Raven said, and he noticed that she now used her real voice. Got the keys.  
He didn't have time to try and make sense of the fighting that followed, since the guard he threatened was trying another attack. This time, the man moved more quietly and managed to grab him, sending his cane whirling off somewhere. Damn. He responded with a punch that made the guard fly backwards. Without really listening, he heard sounds of fighting from Raven as well.  
Don't even think about it, she told someone, and then there was another loud thud, followed by the clicking of keys that told him she was successful in unlocking the cell.  
That was good, since it meant getting the odds in their favour, but he had other things on his mind. The guard was getting serious and he had to make a decision. Either get into a fist fight, or back up his threat and use the gun. He cocked it quickly and lowered it to what he judged to be a safe height. After all, he didn't want to kill the man. Another blow sent him to the floor, and a shot went off. There was an annoyed snarl from Sabretooth. Well, if it had hit *him*, it couldn't have done much damage. Scott rose quickly and tried again. His experience with fire arms wasn't particularly big, but his ability to aim had always been extremely precise, and so he didn't hesitate to fire. The man tumbled backwards with a surprised yelp.  
Not bad, Raven said, right by his ear.  
he asked.  
Low thigh, she replied, and he nodded, satisfied.  
What's wrong with *him*? Sabretooth asked, contempt in his voice. There was a large something hitting the wall, followed by a moan. Probably Benton.  
He's blind, get over it, Raven snapped at him. For a lover, she wasn't particularly affectionate.  
That reminded Scott. Where's my cane?  
An annoyed sigh from Raven. I got it. She didn't have time to give it to him, because the guards had started moving again. They had to leave, and she took his hand, dragging him with her. Not his favourite way of being guided, but it would have to do. Come on, get out!  
She opened the door to the corridor and when they had all hurried outside, she closed it behind them, locking the guards in. It wouldn't help them much. There must be surveillance cameras all over the place, and Scott could already hear people heading their way. Probably a whole lot more than three, this time.  
Cover Scott, Raven told Sabretooth, and there was an immediate cry of protest from both men.  
I'm not babysitting an X-man, Sabretooth growled.  
Good, 'cause I don't need babysitting, Scott snapped back.  
Cut out the testosterone! Raven said. We need to move fast and dodge bullets. You're not very good at either. And Victor, he's doing this to keep you out of his position, so a little gratitude isn't wrong. Oh, dammit!  
The doors opened, and there were shots coming from Raven's direction, followed by more of those from the policemen. Scott didn't want to kill anyone unless it was absolutely necessary, and so he aimed low or high, but tried to keep it out of lethal height. It wasn't very easy, since he couldn't be sure where the cops were exactly.  
Raven yelled to Sabretooth, and the big man headed forward, practically plowing into the policemen. Unless they were unusually incompetent, they must have hit him at least once, but as long as there weren't too many shots, that would only slow him down temporarily.  
Then there was a cry of pain, and the shooting stopped. Scott's heart speeded, and he tried to understand what was going on. Sabretooth was still fighting his way forward, hitting the policemen with something that wasn't his fists, and not a gun either, it was much too soft for that... Scott finally put two and two together and grimaced a little. It was a human body.  
A man was shoved right at him, someone who was still breathing... and still armed. Scott found the gun just in time to push it away a little, and although the shot grazed his arm, it didn't actually harm him. Before the man had time to shoot again, Scott tore the gun from his hand and then hit him in the head with his own. While he was still falling, Scott put a knee under his jaw that sent him flying to the wall. That should keep him down for a while.  
Disarm them first, you schmuck! Raven yelled at Sabretooth. Obviously she had the same kind of problem.  
He must have listened, for the next guy coming in Scott's direction made no attempt to fire. Yet he was harder to fight than the other one. Although guns are really handy to shoot someone, their use in a wrestling situation is limited -- especially if they're the reason you're wrestling.  
The man flinched as a flying foot made connection with his body, and even Scott staggered backwards a bit from the impact. Raven seemed to have landed hard, but quickly went back to her feet.  
Don't need babysitting, huh? she snorted, and Scott grinned a little.  
he panted.  
No prob. She leaned down for a moment.   
Oops what?  
Again, she dragged him away. It was a strange kind of fight, Raven dragging him off somewhere, then full stop to fight while hiding behind Sabretooth, who used people for shields. He wondered how much of this confusion was because he couldn't see, and how much was because the Brotherhood simply had a weird way of fighting.  
Another door opening, a push through, and a slam behind him. Next stop was definitely less hectic, with only a quick roaring fight from Sabretooth before they moved on. Scott wondered how many of the policemen had survived their breakout and was entirely grateful he didn't have to know. None of the ones he had close encounter with were likely to have died from it, that was all he could say.  
There was a final shot from Raven followed by a cry of pain, and then another door. Only, this time it actually led outside.  
He couldn't believe their luck as Raven pushed him into the backseat of the car, and he sent thanks to a God he didn't know if he believed in.  
Now would be a perfect time to just ride straight into the sunset, Raven said when she had started the car, tires screaming below.  
We need to finish things at the hotel, Scott reminded her.  
I know. She sighed. I hate you, X-man.  
  
**********  
  
Do you still have my cane? Scott asked.  
Raven sounded a little guilty. I do, it's just that it's... a little bent.  
I can take care of that, Sabretooth offered sullenly. A short while later, he said: Here you go, and before Scott could react, the tip of the cane had hit him in the head.  
Victor, sometimes you're such an idiot, Raven told her lover.  
He grunted. After a short silence, he said: I missed you.  
Scott smiled, bending down his head so the people in the front seat wouldn't notice. If Raven was anything like the women he knew, she'd melt from that. To give them some privacy, he pretended like he was completely preoccupied with checking the cane. He had been hesitant of getting a metal one -- ever since the fight with Magneto was enough to set his warning system on -- but now he was grateful for it. Anything else would probably have broken in the fight.  
Even though Raven was still driving too steadily for anything to *really* be going on in the front seat, the atmosphere was most definitely getting steamy. There was a small pleased sound that was not quite a laugh coming from Raven. Seconds later, another sound made Scott frown. It didn't come from the motor, but at first he couldn't quite identify it, even though it seemed familiar. Then he realized that it was Sabretooth purring. Somehow he had never thought of something so benign coming from his vocal chords. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of love making that beast could provide.  
Before he let *that* thought get any further, he quickly dived into another part of his mind. He didn't like the thought that came up much better.  
How many died in there? he asked.  
The others immediately ended their little caressing.  
I just killed one, Raven said. The one that *you*, adressing her lover, didn't disarm before you threw him at me. Apart from that, I aimed low, and they mostly stayed out of the way. Figured you'd like it that way.  
You're fighting to please him? Sabretooth growled, jealous.  
So what? We got out, didn't we? And I didn't see you slaying left and right!  
Ripped one's throat, Sabretooth reminded her. And the one I gutted maybe won't live. He sounded oddly proud.  
What about that shield of yours?  
Didn't kill him. They did.  
Yeah, because you pulled him in front of you. Raven's voice didn't reveal much regard for his brain capacity.  
They shot me twice. I didn't like that. Just because I heal, doesn't mean I don't hurt.  
Just four then, Scott said. He had feared worse. Still, four was four too many. Most of them were just police officers doing their job. The big bad boys were still out there. All he had done was rescue one homicidal criminal.  
He could no longer hear sirens behind them, and soon Raven slowed down, although Scott had a feeling she still drove around most of San Francisco. He wholeheartedly approved of that. No need in leading them directly to the hotel.  
We're soon there, she told them in Dr. Finn's voice. He hoped that after this day, he would no longer have to hear it. Victor, get down.  
Sabretooth snarled a bit, but did as he was told. Soon the car stopped altogether. It was time for their final act as Betty and Simon. Scott hoped they would pull it off this time as well.  
  
**********  



	3. 

**********  
  
When he entered the hotel lobby, he immediately felt her presence with a strength that shocked him after this time apart. He longed to throw himself at her, to feel that lovely hair tangled up around his fingers once again, but he managed to pull himself out of it and only send one, very fierce, thought: *Call me Simon. Keep calm, and call me Simon.*  
Jean's voice said from another part of the lobby, where he knew there were some armchairs. She walked towards him, quickly, but not too quickly.  
Raven's arm stiffened in the grip of his arm, and he pressed it gently, urging her to move forward, play along.  
he said. I'm glad you came. We'll join you in just a second. You remember Betty, don't you?  
Of course, Jean said, and he knew she had recognized Mystique. *Scott, what's going on?*  
The thoughts flooded his mind, and he felt her stopping them, telling him to calm down, so he just told her the most urgent. *The police are after us. We broke Sabretooth out of jail, and we have kidnapped a woman.* They moved towards the elevators, and soon the familiar tinkle announced that it had entered their floor.  
*WHAT!?* He honestly hoped the shock in her mental voice didn't show in her expression.  
*I had to do it. She was one of the doctors.* He didn't have to explain what doctors. *I couldn't let them go through with it again. Not even with Sabretooth.* He couldn't explain why, it was too messed up even for him to understand, and after the death of those cops he wondered if this had really been the right thing to do. It didn't matter if it wasn't, he couldn't have done it differently.  
Jean didn't argue, and he had a felling some of the messed up thoughts in his mind had been broadcasted as well. All three of them got out of the elevator and into the suite.  
So, Jean Grey, Raven said sarcastically, how did you find us?  
The professor used Cerebro. She turned to Scott. Did you really think I believed what you told me? Even without the link, I know a blatant lie when I hear it.  
Well, you have to decide, Raven said. Are you with us or against us? And remember, this time your own lover will be busted.  
With you, obviously. *And I trusted you not to get arrested,* Jean chided him. Is she in there?  
Raven said. She was already fixing up their stuff, and didn't stop to ask how Jean knew about Dr. Finn. She was an intelligent woman and had probably figured it out.  
Scott followed Jean into the bedroom and stopped behind her. She was standing by the door, staring at the doctor. She didn't say anything, and he tried looking into her mind to see what she was thinking. What he got was a mental smile followed by an image, and he suddenly realized that it wasn't just Raven being dirtyminded, the entire situation actually looked a bit kinky.  
I'll take off the gag now, he said, moving past Jean to the bed. *Turn on the TV, see if you can find an action movie.* Jean obeyed him, and deliberately turned up the volume enough so that any cries from Dr. Finn would be thought to be part of the show. He put the key to the manacles on the nightstand, where the first person entering the room was sure to find it, and then removed the gag. It was wet from tears. Despite his loathing for the woman, he actually felt a little sorry for her. Xavier had always said information would change the public opinion of mutants. Kidnapping sure as hell wouldn't, and he knew what she felt like.  
We'll be leaving now, he said, in a kinder tone than he had ever used before. It was easier dealing with her now that he never had to meet her again. Someone will find you soon.  
Who is she? Dr. Finn whispered.  
My girlfriend, Scott said shortly. He turned to leave, and his fingers brushed against Jean's arm. You coming?  
She followed him outside. That woman... She was so small.  
Dr. Finn was a rather tall woman, but he knew what she meant. He had realized the same thing when he ran off from the doctors in the first place, when Rogue stopped to talk to Dr. Sawyer. All those fancy words and screwed up ideals aside, Dr. Sawyer had just been a man like anyone else, someone who had made a terrible mistake and was trying to make up for it. The only difference between the two doctors in that respect was that Dr. Finn had never admitted her own imperfection. Never would.  
I put the sign on the door, the cleaning woman won't skip us this time, Raven said. All finished.  
They left the room and locked it, and they were halfway to the elevator when Scott felt Jean's sudden concern.  
What's wrong?  
Is there some other way down? There are people heading this way. Looking for us.  
Scott let a curse escape his lips, and Raven provided them with more than one.  
There must be something, she said, looking around. Wait a second.  
She took a few steps away and there was a short pause. Of course, there had to be a map showing the exits, in case of fire. This way.  
They hurried down the stairs, several stairs, and Scott had a distinct feeling Jean was giving him some telekinetic help, because at this speed he should already have bumped into something or missed a step. Jean's tension was always in his mind, but not until they had already passed by several floors did he actually hear any followers. He stiffened, and Jean pressed his hand. *We're almost down.*  
Raven was ahead of them, and her steps slowed down. They couldn't come rushing out like a bunch of fugitives, even if that was what they were. Scott could hear the clatter of metal utensils telling him they were approaching the kitchen.  
Guests aren't allowed in here, someone told them as they passed through the crowded room.  
It's an emergency, Raven said. We have to get to the hospital right away.  
The man's voice immediately changed from irritated to concerned. Is there anything I can do?  
No, thank you, we'll manage.  
People let them through, thank God, this would actually work out, and the pursuers were still far behind. By the time the door to the staircase opened again, they were already close to the next one, the one leading outside. They started to run again, until a car stopped with screaming brakes and Sabretooth roared: Get inside!  
There wasn't enough time to get inside in a sane manner, they just jumped in with bags and all, making it rather crowded and uncomfortable. The important thing was to get the hell out of there.  
Another X-man, Sabretooth complained, and Raven snapped at him:  
What do you suggest, that we drop her somewhere?  
He growled at her, but even if he might have found the suggestion tempting, he didn't act on it.  
Scott listened anxiously for followers, but in a town like this, the sounds were soon inseparable from the rest of the traffic, and he chose to trust Jean's mind instead, listening to her anxious feelings. It took a long time before she relaxed, but finally, she leaned back.  
They're gone now.  
Sabretooth grunted a little. Get that stupid blonde off your face, he told Raven. In spite of the serious situation, Scott had to smile. It seemed like Dr. Finn wasn't quite Sabretooth's type of woman.  
What are you going to do now? Jean asked after a while.  
I don't know, Raven said, sounding rather surprised at the question.   
Well, they're not looking for me, and I could change Scott's looks a little, but I don't see how Sabretooth could hide.  
Always worked before, the big man pointed out.  
He seemed rather calm, now that they were no longer in immediate danger. For Scott and Jean, this was the first real trouble with the police. Even though the law had never been on their side, they had tried stay within its limits. The Brotherhood, on the other hand, had been criminals for years, and visibly mutated for even longer. They were used to staying hidden, and knew every way of doing so.  
Should we drop you off somewhere? Raven asked. The airport?  
I think... a hairdresser, Jean said thoughtfully. Scott didn't like the thoughts she broadcasted very much, but he had to admit they made sense.  
Okay. Victor...  
...get down, Sabretooth filled in. Like that alien on TV, he informed the others before he stopped the car and allowed Raven to trade places with him.  
Hey, Cyclops, he called from his position on the floor. (*That must be incredibly uncomfortable*, Scott thought.)  
  
Thanks. I know I would have healed if they had started cutting me, but I wouldn't have liked it.  
He certainly hadn't expected any courtesy from Sabretooth. You're welcome.  
  
**********  
  
Although he didn't actually need to hold on to her arm, he did it anyway. After everything that had happened, it was her closeness he needed, more than her physical support. The mind link comforted him even more than her arm, since it told him exactly what he wanted to know -- there was no one looking for them here. He had never thought it could be so lovely just to *not* be chased by the police. That would have made him a lot happier if his head hadn't been so uncomfortable. Dying his hair had been a sensible precaution, and it wasn't that he objected to it not being a necessary one, but... well, he just didn't like it.  
Jean snickered a little.  
he asked, following the stream of feet moving towards the boarding gate.  
She silenced for a while, but soon she snickered again.  
That bad huh? Scott asked.  
Well, no... I just never imagined you as a blonde.  
He sighed a little. Usually, his hair fell down over his forehead, almost reaching his eyes. Now that it had been cut, the breeze felt strange around his head. As for the dye, it stung his head a little, and smelled rather strange, but that would wear off, he guessed.  
So, how do I look? Like that guy on Buffy?  
I'm afraid not. More like that guy on Ally McBeal.  
He groaned.   
Her mind told him to cheer up. *At least I don't think anyone would recognize you.*  
*I hope you're right.*  
They got closer to the boarding gate, handed over their tickets, and finally the plane arrived, the one that would take them back home. When they sat down in the plane, Scott felt Jean relax, body and soul both. Not until then had he realized how tense she was. What kind of low-life was he, dragging her into this? It wasn't a justified cause by any of the X-men standards, letting innocent people die just to get one psycho out of trouble. If it had been one of those hypothetical quizzes they handed you in school, he would have branded his actions as wrong. But this wasn't hypothetical, this was real, and he couldn't have done it any other way.  
Can I take your cane, sir?  
He jumped a bit when the voice addressed him. It took a while before he remembered to add thank you. Why did they even ask that? In spite of all that food serving and cute legs thing, stewardesses were there to help out in case of an emergency, right? Well, if the plane went down, he wanted the cane with him, not stuck away somewhere. He chided himself for being so edgy. Public airplanes had never been his favourites, he used to prefer to be his own pilot, something he'd never do again. That certainly added to his bad mood, but not enough by itself to make him snap at the woman like that. It was this entire mission. Now, when it was over, it was getting to him.  
There had been a dream once, something to believe in. Sure, some of him had wanted to believe because it was Xavier's dream and he'd do anything for Xavier. But that wasn't the whole truth. He had honestly believed in the dream, he had struggled not only to know what was right but to do it as well. He had never been prepared for a situation when there was no such thing as the right choice. When there was no room for love between hatred and indifference.  
Jean's hand caressed his cheek, softly, and he knew he had been broadcasting.  
*Sorry,* he sent her, enjoying the possibility to talk to her like this. Missing her had been hard, and the hardest part was missing the link.  
*It's okay.* She leaned over to kiss him, lightly bringing up the lesser problem to keep him from thinking of the bigger. *Maybe you should get a foldable cane instead.*  
He was grateful for this. Deep brooding was one thing when they were alone, at home. He didn't want to get started on it here. *You were the one who said one-piece is better for beginners.*  
*But you're not a beginner anymore,* she reminded him. *I didn't realize it myself until at the hotel. The moment you entered I could feel all your stress and mixed up emotions, but it didn't show. You were so graceful, clearing the path to the left as you were taking a right step, and then the other way around.*  
He shrugged. That was the natural way.  
*Don't you remember how clumsy you were at first?*  
She reminded him teasingly, and he had to laugh, but soon the laughter died.  
*I was better off then.*  
She put her arms protectively around him, telling him that was not true. He let himself be carried by her touch, to forget about the guilt and the desillusion that weighed on him as heavily as fear had done before. Nothing was ever quite wrong when Jean was with him. She was the only one who could take the weight of the world off his shoulders, like Hercules had done for Atlas, but unlike Hercules, she was willing to hold on.  
Are you falling asleep? She spoke out loud, but very softly.  
I think so, he mumbled. He lifted his head from her shoulder. Do you mind?  
No, I could use some sleep myself.  
She let her head rest by his, and soon they were both sleeping, uncomfortably seated, but comfortably close.  
  
**********  
  
The nap lasted almost all the way to NYC. Scott was the first one to wake up, and he mentally nudged Jean. When she only drowsily turned around in his lap he shook her gently. Finally, she gave in and seemed to wake up completely in a second, just like a cat.  
Before long, the plane landed, and they got their stuff together. Although neither of them said anything even mentally, Scott knew Jean felt just as excited to come home as he did. It was a good thing they were seated so close to the exit and didn't have to wait to get out.  
They walked quickly through the hallways leading from the airplane to the main building. Scott already heard the sounds of an open area by the time he felt Jean stiffen. His first instinct was to run, but the crowd behind them was pushing them forward.  
FBI. Can we have a word with you, sir?  
The words were spoken aimably and low, but Scott had no reason to felt reassured by that. There was no way he could run from the feds, and he mentally told Jean not to fight them. He didn't want her involved in this, things were bad enough as it was.  
Of course.  
A hand took his arm, and he knew there was no use in telling them he preferred it the other way around. They may want it to look like they were doing it for support, but that wasn't the truth. Scott tried not to panic, but couldn't help but wonder what would happen with him. Thank God he was no longer in California, they would have fried him instantly there -- unless they found too much pleasure in keeping a mutant criminal alive. New York State was more moderate, but with the things he had done, there were prison walls at the end of the road anyway. He was grateful Jean was just coming along without causing any trouble. Whatever happened to him, he wanted her out of it.  
They did keep up the almost-friendly act though. Compared to the over-pitying attitude strangers used to give him it was practically the cold shoulder, but it made him feel more at ease during the car ride to wherever they were going.  
He was lead into a building and asked Jean through the mind link what it was like, but from her description it was as anonymous to her as it was to him.  
You will have to stay outside, ma'am.  
Even though he was now separated from Jean, Scott felt relieved that she was allowed so close to the room where he was seated. He would be able to keep at least some mental connection to her. The chair was hard and uncomfortable, and it creaked a little when he sat down.  
You were travelling as Scott Summers, the one remaining man said. His voice was low and calm, like a psychiatrist on TV, and from the height of it, he was even taller than Scott. Is that your real name?  
What was the point in lying?   
The man sat down opposite him. Well, Mr. Summers, earlier today a dangerous mutant escaped from a prison in San Francisco, California. Three policemen died, a fourth is still in critical condition. His accomplices had also kidnapped a Dr. Elizabeth Finn, and one of them had somehow managed to take her appearance. The other one fits your description. Obviously, we also have witnesses that could confirm for certain that you were there.  
They would have. I'm entitled to a lawyer, aren't I?  
The man sighed. You're entitled to one, but we would prefer it if you didn't have one.  
Scott frowned. He didn't understand what they were getting at.  
Mr. Summers, in spite of what you may believe, you are not under arrest.  
Then what's this all about? He tried to keep calm.  
We have a proposition for you. There was a short pause as the man waited for an answer. When he didn't get one, he continued: Dr. Elizabeth Finn was part of a research group that last summer tried to find ways of eliminating mutant powers. The project was supported by concerned authorities, but recently evidence has come forward that indicates that the official records were not entirely truthful. The man paused, moving about on his chair. It seemed like Scott wasn't the only one who was uncomfortably seated.  
Were you one of the subjects to this project?  
Scott didn't answer, and the man took a deep breath, rising from his chair and walking up to the wall. There must be a window.  
We want to know what happened during that project, Mr. Summers. So do the people who authorized this. If you do have any information on that project, we want you to tell us everything you know. Furthermore, once you have done that, we don't want you to ever bring it up again. If the press, or the law, or anyone else asks you about this, you have never heard of such a project. Am I making myself clear?  
  
If it got out that high authorities, whichever they could be, had supported violent experimentation on mutants, it would ruin their credibility. Claiming that they hadn't known the truth wouldn't help, that would only make them look like easily fooled morons. Scott had no problem understanding why they wanted to cover things up.  
Good. In return for that testimony, we have never heard of you, Scott Summers. We never had this conversation. The person we're looking for was never caught -- maybe he was killed in the chase. How does that sound?  
Scott's expression turned into stone. It was incredibly tempting. All they really wanted to do was cover their tracks. They were dead scared of what the public would have to say about them. Maybe they feared that if the truth got out, it would swing the public opinion in favour of mutants. The only problem was, he couldn't believe he and Rogue were really that important. There had to be more to this. More mutants harmed, probably. Raven had picked up a few clues from Dr. Dean, but if they made any sense to her, she hadn't told him about it. All he knew was that something awful had been going on, and they wanted him to help them cover it up. He shouldn't accept the offer, but could he afford not to?  
I don't really have to tell you what the consequences of your actions would be if you dealed with this the legal way, do I?  
Scott shook his head numbly. New York State wasn't quite as anti-mutant as California, so he might have some chance of getting a fair treatment. Trouble was, even a fair treatment wouldn't prevent him from spending the rest of his days in jail. That was what made him suspicious about this deal. Things had to be pretty bad if they were willing to put him back on the streets.  
What did they do? You won't make me believe that you're going through all this trouble for my sake. Who else was hurt?  
A long silence. The man's voice was kind as he finally replied: I'll tell you everything we know, but not until after you have given your testimony.  
That made sense. The only way they could tell if he was lying was by comparing his statements to what they had already found out. Fortunately, he had another way, and he gently reached out to Jean, asking her to check if they were honest. The answer was swift: they were. His mind screamed at him to take the offer, to find out what had happened and then finally rest. But that was the coward's way out. These people, these doctors, were still walking the streets. How could he betray their former and future victims just to save his own skin?  
If I tell you what I want to know, what are you going to do with it?  
The FBI man seemed to ponder that for a few seconds, then he answered: The New York project didn't last long. There has been plans to start similar projects in other states. Those plans will obviously be abandoned now. I can also guarantee that none of the doctors who took part in the original project will ever practice medicine again.  
That was a lot less than perfect, but it was probably the best he could get. Maybe he could get more by allowing himself to be a martyr, spreading the word around to every reporter who wanted to listen, but he doubted it. And those doubts spoke to the coward inside him, the one who was much bigger than he wanted to admit.  
You don't have much of an option, Mr. Summers.  
There was a doctor who helped us, Scott said, lifting his head up, testing the man. Dr. Sawyer. Why don't you get his testimony?  
The man cleared his throat. We have... located Dr. Sawyer, at an institution in New Rochelle. However, he had been drugged down for more than six months and did not seem to understand our questions.  
Scott lost his breath. They had turned on their own, just as Raven said. He wondered if she had known this.  
We treat this very seriously.  
Well, of course you do, he whispered, his mouth and voice not quite obeying him. When they do it to humans, it's just not acceptable anymore, even to you. Is it? He couldn't stop the sarcasm from entering his voice.  
A cold passionless voice. Will you cooperate?  
Scott leaned back. He could have been a hero once, but he certainly wasn't anymore. The dream wouldn't lead him, he was on his own.  
  
  
**********  
  
The tapping of a pencil to the table was the only sound in the room for minutes after Scott had finished his story. Tap. Tap-tap. The rhythm was almost musical.  
Good enough for you? Scott finally asked bitterly.  
The tapping stopped, then there was another sound. Skin to skin -- the man was rubbing his forehead. Godless shit, he muttered under his breath. Scott probably wasn't supposed hear that, so he pretended he hadn't.  
Then will you tell me what else they did?  
The very deep breath coming from the man told him that whatever was coming up wasn't something he'd appreciate hearing.  
We don't have the whole truth, obviously. But from what we have, the official records seem to have been less than truthful, to say the least. He started tapping again. You were considered a success, for one thing. You were their first subject -- well, you and the girl.  
He had suspected that much. The doctors hadn't seemed very prepared for failure.  
Dr. Finn left right after the experiments were finished on the third subject, a young man with an electric field around him. They managed to eliminate the field on the second try. First time around he got electric shocks from his own body. It's not quite clear how much damage that did, but the inofficial notes do indicate that he recovered.  
That's all you've got? Scott asked.   
That, and people telling of peculiar kidnappings and disappearances. Also, some of the equipment left told us something -- well, those of us who understand that sort of things.  
No witnesses?  
They induced amnesia on all their subjects, and the doctors refuse to admit anything. He gave a snorting laugh. Guess in a way it's a good thing you released that psycho.  
Scott didn't answer. He was still thinking of the previous sentence. If he and Rogue hadn't run away, they would have been drifting around without any memories of themselves, just like Logan. Even if the professor had found them, they wouldn't have remembered him. And Jean... he wouldn't even have the memory of her face.  
The man started to speak again. Fourth subject was a middle-aged woman with chilling breath, literaly. She was married, we found her family. They had reported her missing. Doubt that they'll ever find her. She was alive when she left the clinic, after a double lung transplant that was successful from their point of view. The notes said she was asthmatic afterwards, so I don't know if she's still alive.  
Scott closed his eyes instincively to stop the tears. The man's voice was getting rougher.  
Fifth was the first death. A junkie, apparently. He had poisonous spikes that came out at will. They tried to pull them out one by one. The unofficial notes say he died before the experiments were completed, but they don't say why. He seems to have been in a bad condition, so it may not have been their fault. Still, Dr. Duke left after that. He tried to make a joke. This is beginning to sound like 'And Then There Was None'.  
Scott didn't smile. A person had died at that place. If the doctors were leaving because they actually had some sort of conscience, great, but that didn't help anyone but themselves.  
The man cleared his throat. Sixth was a telepath. Her we have actually found, at that institution in New Rochelle. They did some sort of lobotomy on her. She's not a vegetable or anything, but she's most definitely half-witted.  
The closed eyelids didn't help now, tears came trickling down Scott's face.  
How many more? he whispered, not certain he could listen much longer.  
Just one more. There was no coldness in the man's voice anymore. A baby born with gills. The project was originally intended for adult, dangerous mutants, but they decided to expand.  
Scott knew what was coming before the man even continued, and he prayed that he would be wrong, that it was not so.  
It died.  
Scott let out a quiet sob.  
There seems to have been internal strifes already, and after that, the project was closed. The leaders haven't been on speaking terms since. Of course, all that was told in the official records was that the expansion idea had been abandoned.  
Anyone could have figured out the truth, Scott knew that. The authorities had just decided not to ask. Don't ask where the mutants came from, don't ask what happened to them afterwards. You don't want to know.  
I hope our agreement still stands.  
No, he thought, no it doesn't. He wanted the whole world to know about this. But what was the point? A handfull of mutants, only two of whom had actually died, and a young doctor. What was that to a world that couldn't even be bothered to care for long about Israel or Balkan?  
It stands. He wanted to stand up, leave this room, but he didn't know if he was allowed to. Also, he didn't quite trust his legs. Can I leave? he asked -- no, pleaded. He hadn't meant it to come out so pathetic.  
The man came up to him and grabbed his arm again, and this time he knew it was meaningful to argue.  
I'd prefer it if I could take your arm.  
Before they came to the door, the man said: Mr. Summers.  
  
That mutant you released was a killer.  
I know. What was he supposed to say, that he was sorry? He wasn't. Maybe he should be.  
I'm an Amnesty guy, I've been arguing for years that you can't do any sort of things to a person just because they're bad. So I guess I understand why you did it. It's still stupid, though.  
It wasn't much support, but Scott appreciated it never the less. Thank you.  
  
**********  
  
Scott shuddered a little when he stepped out of the taxi. Snow was falling on his face, and after this time in San Francisco, it was a strange feeling. He guessed it had been cold before, when the FBI tok him away, but everything had been so chaotic then he hadn't really noticed. At least it hadn't snowed back then, he was almost certain of that.  
He waited for Jean to get the suitcase out from the trunk. In spite of the cold, he was certainly not in any hurry to get inside. How would he ever be able to face the others? Before, he used to think he had lost the ability to fight with them. He knew now that it wasn't so. It was even worse. He had lost the *right* to fight with them. He didn't belong in the team anymore, and that hurt, because they were the only family he had.   
Rogue's voice, followed by two pair of feet running in his direction. Jean's warm hand slipped into his. So far she hadn't reproached him once. It surprised him a little, but he was entirely grateful for it. How to handle Rogue was another matter. Out of all the people at the mansion, she was probably the most likely to understand what he had done. That didn't mean he had the right to mess up her mind when she had only recently come to terms with herself.  
Her voice was warm, and she gave him a big hug, careful not to touch anything uncovered. I'm so glad you're back.  
She's speaking for both of us. Another voice from behind Rogue, and Scott managed to smile.  
Hi Bobby. Thanks. He wrapped his arms around Rogue. Okay, don't squeeze all the air out of me.  
She finally let go, and they all began walking towards the house. You've been gone for so *long*.  
I know. I meant to come home earlier. Conversation was painful, but he kept it up for her sake, because he had really missed her. Her overwhelming welcoming surprised him. They were close, but this had a touch of desperation. The leader inside him told him to find out if something was wrong, but he was so tired, he couldn't bear anything else. It was only Jean's mind embracing his that kept him going as far as to their room.  
He didn't know if Rogue left because she sensed all this or if it was actually true that she had math class. In a way, he was relieved that she was gone, and that made him feel guilty.  
he asked, when the boy had already turned to leave him and Jean alone. Is Rogue okay?  
I think so. She's just troubled over Logan. Sabretooth escaped from prison yesterday, it's been all over the news. Logan has been wrecking things all day.  
Scott didn't know what else to say. Although Logan's memory was still jagged pieces, he had found out months ago that he hated Sabretooth with a passion. If Logan ever found out Scott was responsible for this, he'd beat him into a bleeding pulp.  
Yeah, well. Whatever made him feel better. Whatever made them both feel better.  
Jean closed the door behind them and put the suitcase down on the floor. I'm taking a shower. Join me.  
It wasn't even a question, it was an order.  
Jean, I'm not about to...  
You're about to rest. Lord knows when you last did it. If we take a hot shower first, it will be easier for you.  
Her voice was determined, and he slowly took off his jacket, not sure if he intended to continue with the rest of his clothes. Counting the hours, he realized it was about nine o'clock in the morning here. Definitely no time to go to bed. Besides, they had been sleeping on the plane. He should get things ready. Unpack, for one thing. Not that he much cared about the things in his suitcase the way things were. But even if he let that be, which was sloppy in itself, there were other things to do. He should talk to the professor. God, he *really* didn't want to do that.  
So his hands didn't stop moving when his jacket and shoes were off. His feet proceeded to the bathroom by their own free will. And when the hot shower was over, without his permission, his body curled up to Jean's in their bed and had its pleasure. It refused to listen to him anymore. It was tired of him. And so he surrendered and gave up his broodings for a few hours, traded it in for the softness of Jean beside him.  
  
**********  



	4. 

**********  
  
He knew the professor was waiting for him.  
The touch in his mind was in no way obtrusive, but the moment he felt it he stiffened in Jean's arms. It didn't take long to confirm the discreet presence, and soon Scott rolled over to his back. Eyes that had previously been closed stared into the darkness that formed his world. It wasn't Xavier's mental presence at a tender moment that disturbed him. It was only the mental equivalence of a person waiting outside a bedroom for the noises inside to stop. They were, after all, grown up people. The problem was that Xavier was waiting for him, waiting for an explanation of some sort, and he had none.  
Even if the professor did not know the entire truth, Cerebro must have told him enough to stamp Scott as a disappointment, cooperating with the bad lot. Which would be the complete and absolute truth. No matter what Xavier would say, there was nothing that could make Scott back off from the stand he had taken in offering Raven his help. He was certain he would be forgiven if he truly regretted what he did, but as things were, he knew he would be rejected. He was surprised Jean hadn't rejected him too.  
A smooth hand circled across his chest. *Why would I reject you?* There was laughter in her mental voice, but he could still sense the shields in her mind. This was a private conversation, and Xavier was not to disturb.  
He sat up, turning away from her but holding onto her hand. He didn't want that touch to go away. *I don't belong here anymore. The things Raven said makes more sense than anything we teach here. And I hate that.*  
*So the dream isn't perfect. You have always set such high standards for yourself. Don't you think there are plenty of people around here who agree with you? Logan, for one. The professor accepted him here, why wouldn't he accept you?*  
Scott didn't answer, and Jean insisted: *Nobody is going to reject you. Certainly not Xavier.*  
*But he's going to think less of me. He's going to think I was wrong. And I'm not.* Scott sighed deeply, burying his face in his hands. *God, I wish I was. He's the only father I have, how can he not be right?*  
Jean didn't answer immediately, and he ripped the connection, shutting his thoughts away from her. I guess I'll go see him, he said, rising from bed.  
Her voice was low, and she didn't push the issue. Not until he had dressed and left the room did another thought try to enter his mind. He allowed it, reluctantly.  
*Nobody's perfect, Scott. You don't have to be, and neither does he.*  
Perfect? People had died because of his actions in San Francisco. That was a long way from perfect.  
He moved through the familiar corridors and stopped outside the professor's office, knocking on the door. At Xavier's call to do so, he opened it and entered.  
Scott. Welcome back. Xavier's voice was as warm as always, but Scott could trace the reservation in it.  
Thank you, sir. I think we ought to talk.  
Indeed. Why don't you sit down, you look like you're being court marshalled.  
Well, wasn't he? FBI and their aura of prison had scared him, but he could stand up to them. Fear not those who can kill the body but not the soul, right? This... he didn't know why this scared him more, but it did. He sat down, reluctantly.  
There was a short silence before Xavier spoke.  
Jean was worried... that Mystique was in some way forcing you to work with her. I got the impression that it wasn't so.  
It wasn't. Scott spoke with a calm he didn't feel. I'm still stronger than her. She needed my help, I gave it.  
You assisted her in releasing Sabretooth from prison?  
So he *had* gotten that much from Cerebro. Or maybe he just put two and two together.   
The professor sighed deeply.   
I had to. No man deserves that sort of treatment.  
Is this because of what happened to you last summer?  
Scott's jaw tightened. He was restricted by his promise to the FBI, and as much as he loathed that promise, he was a man of his word. But even if he hadn't been, he still would have been bothered by that question. Xavier sounded like some therapist asking a criminal if he had a sad childhood. Sure, his beliefs were formed by his experiences -- hell, he began to sound like Xavier himself. He had scars that would never heal, even though he could learn to live with them the way he was learning to live with his blindness. That didn't mean he had no ability to make moral decisions. This was a moral decision. It could not be reasoned away.  
*You're being rather unfair to me.*  
Scott's head jerked up at Xavier's thought in his mind, and he demonstratively slammed it shut.  
I take it you don't approve, he said bitterly.  
Of letting a killer out on the street? Of murdering people? Xavier still hadn't raised his voice, but he spoke with great reproach.  
Of taking a stand. Scott squeezed the armrests in his hands. I wish those things didn't have to happen, but they did. You taught me to believe in a dream. This is reality I've had to deal with.  
His words surprised himself. During all this, all the regrets, he had never for a second thought ill of Xavier. Now rage was boiling inside him.  
Life can be terribly unfair. You knew that already. But the fact that there is evil in this world is no reason to add to it.  
Scott left his chair, raising his voice almost to a yell.  
What would you have me do, let it happen? Raven may be a cynical bitch, but she is right in one thing. At least their side is doing something! If it had been one of theirs, instead of Rogue and me, they would never have let those doctors get away with it. He shook his head slowly, to clear his thoughts. They wouldn't have let it happen to anyone else!  
Did it? Xavier's voice was gentle, almost lower than Scott's own pulse beating in his ears. He laughed silently, almost like a sob.  
No. Nothing ever happened. I was never in that place, or helped getting Sabretooth out, or involved in this whole fucking mess at all. Nothing ever happened, everything is fine, we live in the best of all possible worlds. I suppose I'm not even fucking blind. He was crying now, but he didn't care. Jesus Christ, I've sold my soul.  
A weak buzzing sound, and the professor's hand rested on his. Scott, I...  
Scott fought the hand away, not giving Xavier time to finish his sentence. Why didn't we do something? he yelled. We could have found that place again, stopped them, why didn't we? Why didn't *I*?  
You can't blame yourself for not acting. You were in no condition to enter a mission.  
We got Sabretooth out. His voice had gone hoarse from the yelling, and he had to lower it. Just Raven and me, from a prison a hell of a lot more secure than that hospital. And she's no stronger than I am. If we had put the X-men team on the case to begin with, we could have have helped. Why didn't we? Why didn't the thought ever come up?  
Because we were shocked, Xavier answered simply. You and Rogue more than anyone, of course, but we all were. It's no excuse, but it's an explanation. When something like this happens, it's hard for everyone.  
Yeah. Especially the ones who died. I'm the lucky one here, sir, can you get it? At least I still have my life. I've got Jean, and I remember what she looks like even though I can't see it. They took all that stuff away from people. He choked on his own words. This is not a good world. There is evil walking around that doesn't know that it is evil, and the only way to beat it is to turn evil yourself. I hate myself now, more than you can ever hate me. But at least that hate tells me there's something still right in me.  
I could never hate you, Scott. Xavier's hands took his, and this time he didn't fight them away. I'm just afraid. I don't want to lose you the way I lost Erik.  
Scott sank back into his chair, pulling his own hand along with Xavier's over his eyes. I don't want that either. But I don't think I can honestly teach the kids tolerance anymore.  
Then take some time off, Xavier said. You don't have to leave the mansion or anything. Consider it an early honeymoon.  
Scott nodded slowly. Honeymoon. Oh, God, the bare thought of a wedding party... But on the other side of the wedding there was the marriage. There was Jean.  
  
**********  
  
Scott was in the kitchen making a sandwich when the phone called, and he paused, frowning. The signal was Für Elise, the one Jean used for her cellphone. She must have left it in the kitchen. That wasn't so surprising; most of the time she used the main phones or, within the mansion, telepathic conversation.  
He put down the butter knife and went over to the kitchen table. He let his hand sweep over the surface. Jean's purse was standing by the far end, and he opened it, picking up the phone.  
Scott Summers, hello?  
You're alive, someone stated in the other end of the line. She was a lot less than exstatic, but yet it was obvious that the news pleased her. He recognized Raven's mutant voice.  
Yes I am. Did you call just to tell me that? It was actually good hearing her voice again. He started to understand Xavier's attitude to Magneto a bit more. A good enemy was worth a whole lot more than a bad friend.  
Yeah, well, they said on the news that you had been killed when they tried to catch you.  
So the FBI had kept their promise. That shouldn't really surprise him.  
Guess it must have been someone else. Poor bastard.  
I guess so. He didn't really want to talk about this. None of the things he had done made him proud, but the deal with the feds was the part he hated the most. He might have decided to cooperate with them no matter what, but in taking the bribe, he had given up his chance of an honorable decision. They had made it a question of his fear of prison, more than one of justice.  
You don't sound convinced.  
I really can't talk about it. Footsteps entered the kitchen, but stopped before Scott could figure out who they belonged to.  
X-men stuff then? Or have you sold out on me? He voice suddenly got very suspicious.  
I would never do that, he said firmly.  
She laughed. You're a good man where it counts, Cyclops.  
Coming from Raven, it was a dubious compliment, but he accepted it gratefully. Her opinion of him may not matter when she called him a weakling or a Galahad knight, but for once, their ethics were actually compatible.  
A thought struck him. Where are you?  
You really don't think I'll answer that, do you?  
Well, Jean and I will be married in six weeks. It wasn't a clear invitation; he couldn't afford one with another person in the room.  
Really? Huh. Might stop by then. Then again, you never know. We're trying to find Morty, it could take a while.  
I thought he was dead.  
I thought you were dead, she replied, and he couldn't help laughing at her quick response. I'm kind of glad you're not.  
Thank you.  
Yeah, whatever. So, bye I guess.  
When Scott had hung up the phone he turned to the person who was watching him from the doorway. Who's there?  
It's me, bub.  
Scott involuntarily took a step backwards. He hadn't expected Logan to show up. For some fortunate reason the two of them hadn't bumped into each other once since he came home.  
I'm not going to hurt you. Logan sounded gruff. He walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. I was getting a beer. Do you want one?  
Scott was still on his guard, but he went back to his unfinished sandwich and continued buttering it. If Logan said he wouldn't hurt him, he meant it. Lying had never been one of his vices.  
Logan pressed the cold aluminium can into his hand without a word, a gesture that in all its roughness was surprisingly considerate. Then he opened his own. If you let the fish lady come to the wedding I can't promise I won't slice her though. His voice was fierce.  
Scott dropped the sandwich and quickly searched for it, getting his hand all buttery in the process. At least it hadn't fallen on the floor. How did you know... oh.   
Enhanced hearing, remember? Convenient thing.  
I guess. Scott finished making his sandwich and went over to the table with that and the can of beer, sitting down. I was certain you'd try to kill me, he said, only half joking.  
Logan sat down opposite him. I probably would have, if I'd gone anywhere near you for the first couple of weeks. You just never seemed to be around, and when I went looking, something always came up. He pondered this for a moment and then seemed to reach the same conclusion Scott did. Who am I kidding? The prof must have stopped me.  
Well, he's not stopping you now, Scott said. He found himself wondering what those claws would feel like running through his chest. Would it hurt a lot, or would there just be a quick pain followed by emptiness? They said your whole life flashed before your eyes when you died, so that would be one way for him to see again. He played with those thoughts, but deep down he knew that he truly wanted to live.  
I promised not to, Logan muttered.  
Scott frowned. Promised who? Xavier?  
Logan didn't continue, only drank from his beer in deep draughts, and after a while Scott gave up trying to find out anything else and concentrated on his snack. It was definitely weird, sitting here next to a guy who had every reason to punch him through the nearest wall.  
Logan put his can down and choked a belch. The kids were... praying, and stuff, he said.  
Scott took in this, although he didn't quite understand what Logan was getting at. When the other man didn't continue, he asked:   
For your recovery and all, wasting a whole lot of candles. Logan sounded awkward. I'm not a praying kind, but some of it must have rubbed off, because I promised to get off your back in the future.  
It felt good to know someone had cared about him while he was away. Even though the prayers hadn't helped the way they were meant to, maybe they could do some good in a more important recovery.   
Didn't quite count on you to come back a fugitive. No one did.  
I know.  
Logan finally burst out in anger, although for him, it was a pretty mild one. What did you do something stupid like that for, Cyke? You and your freaked out ideals. Do you know how much harm that fellow can do out there?  
Yes. I had to do it. He didn't want to go through all that again.  
Next time I meet him I'll cut his throat if I can help it. Then what good will this mess have done?  
Scott rose, took his plate to the sink and then grabbed his cane. He had spent too much time wrestling moral issues already, he couldn't take it anymore, he wanted something to just be simple and pure, something to still be good in this skewed up world. Your kind of death could be better than their kind of life.  
Logan's silence was almost scary. The he asked, in a low voice: You mean for yourself, too?  
Scott hadn't even realized that his words could be interpreted like that, and he found himself telling the truth. I asked myself that only five minutes ago. No, not for me. But I know I'd want out of that place even if you'd stab me for it.  
  
**********  
  
They left the movie theatre and entered the real world with a certain feeling of reluctance. The wedding was less than two weeks away, and they had proclaimed this their last revival of single-life dating. It had been a very good evening. Scott was still smiling as he stepped out in the cold night air, but beneath the smile dark thoughts popped up even though he tried to suppress them. He took Jean's arm and hoped the walk home would keep their minds off anything but the loveliness of the evening.  
Did you like the film? Jean asked, playing with his hair. It had grown out a little now, but still far from enough to please him.  
It was wonderful, he said, and he honestly meant it. With Jean's telepathic explanations, movies were still as much fun as they used to be. Nothing like an oldie.  
You actually look a lot like Cary Grant, she said.  
He smiled. No I don't.  
Spitting image.  
Banning his own gloom, he tried an imitation of the actor: I'm not a Brewster, I'm the son of a sea cook!  
She turned to face him and leaned on his chest. I'm not a taxi driver, I'm a coffee pot.  
He cupped his hand under her chin and kissed her softly, letting his fingers run over her head. God, how he loved her! She was the most beautiful woman on earth, inside and out. Being loved by her was the greatest pleasure in his life, a pleasure he didn't deserve.  
He slowly released his lips from hers. This wasn't working. They could stay away from the pain for a while, hide in a movie... (Part of lyrics came up in his head: *Thinks that it's groovy to hide in a movie, pretends he's Fellini and Antonioni...*) But the pain would always come back. All he could hope was that it would fade, turn into the same kind of dull ache he felt for his blindness.  
Come on, he told Jean, and started to walk again. Let's go home.  
She went along without any comments, and he wondered to himself how much of his thoughts she had picked up. He had deliberately weakened the link lately -- not letting it go completely, he could never do that, but shielding many of his thoughts. Jean had objected to it at first, reminding him of the for better or worse promise they would soon make, but he had persisted. Just because he kept brooding there was no need to drag her into it.  
I had a good time tonight, she told him when she crept down beside him in bed.  
Me too, he said, and he meant it.  
Still... he couldn't sleep. It didn't take him long to realize that this would be another one of those nights when he listened to Jean's deep, even breaths without getting any comfort from them. Sometimes she even snored a little. She had always violently denied it when she was awake, even though Scott had assured her he found it rather cute.  
He finally took a deep sigh and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. What was the use in trying to sleep when his tossing and turning would only wake Jean? He had tried sleeping pills, but they only gave him nightmares and so he stopped. At one point she had suggested antidepressives, but she didn't sound much keener on the thought that he did. This wasn't a medical problem.  
He sat down in the big armchair by the window and rested a book in his lap. About the only good thing with these sleepless nights was the way they had improved his reading. Though tonight he couldn't even keep his mind on that. He had only come through a few pages when his fingers stopped moving and his thoughts wandered away.  
Jean moved around in the bed and mumbled something. Then there was the click telling him she had lit the bedside lamp, followed by a deep sigh.  
Not *again*.  
He was surprised at the irritated tone of her voice, even though he realized he shouldn't be.  
I'm sorry.  
She walked up to him and sat down on the window sill. I really hate that you think you have to deal with all this alone. And don't say you're just protecting me. If that was true you'd still talk to someone else. One of the guys, or a therapist, or a priest even. Have you tried confession?  
That actually made him smile a little. I'm not catholic.  
Then you'll have to settle for me. Her thoughts pushed his mind. *Let me in.*  
*You are in. You're always in.*  
*All the way.*  
He reluctantly let her through and felt her picking up the tangled emotions.  
*All this guilt. What is it about? You always tell everyone you had to do it.*  
*Release Sabretooth, yeah. I'm sorry so many bad things followed from that, but it was still necessary.*  
*Then what...*  
Knowing she wouldn't accept anything but the truth, he sent her a thought.  
*The deal?* She seemed confused, and he tried to explain.  
*I've always believed in taking responsibility for my actions, and for my beliefs. I don't like hiding away and being forced to silence.* His thoughts were very fierce, and his nails dug into the skin of his palms.  
She softly took his hands and opened the grip. *What else could you have done? Gone to jail?*  
*And why not? It's what happens to people who commit crimes.*  
Her thoughts pounded him with their strength. *Don't for a minute think locking you up somewhere would be fair, just because it would be legal. You're entitled to a life, Scott, you hear me?*  
He spoke out loud, because her thoughts were so fierce they actually hurt him. She took a deep breath and followed his example.  
And I'm entitled to one, too. I want a husband by my side, Scott, and I won't settle for anything else. I'm glad we're having the wedding here at the mansion and not in a prison cell. I want my children to have a father that can be there for them.  
He turned his head in her direction, startled.   
I was planning children. Weren't you?  
Well... yes. He tried to hide his disappointment, but since the link was fully open now, he couldn't.  
You thought I was pregnant? She slid down from the window sill into his lap. You wanted me to be pregnant?  
I... I guess so, he said in a low voice. There ought to be someone in this world who can still believe in goodness, not as something unsteady showing up now and then, but as something profound. I can't teach the kids that, to them I'm a living proof of evil. But a baby... He silenced and grimaced. ...would learn about evil anyway. Not to mention that it is a pretty selfish reason to want a child.  
People usually don't have children for altruist reasons, Jean said calmly. I don't even think it would be such a great idea if they did.  
What kind of father would I make anyway?  
The best, Scott. I always want the best.  
He stroke her cheek, enjoying the softness of her skin. You're too good for me.  
She leaned her head on his chest. No. Because you're what I want, what I've always wanted.  
He held on to her, enjoying her body against his. The pain and the guilt didn't go away, but he thought about what she had said. Even though it was just love talk, pep talk, one thing had gone through. His life was linked to her just like their minds were linked together. He had a responsibility towards her. Throwing guilt at himself might satisfy his own need for redemption, but it wouldn't change anything. In a way, he thought wryly, it was just an equivalent of Rogue's old habit of cutting herself. In taking the deal, he had accepted that going to prison wasn't the best way of dealing with the situation.  
Then what was? He had to find out, and when he did, he would go with it. Just because there were no good choices, that didn't mean that choices didn't matter. He had let himself be so occupied with the loss of complete goodness that he forgot about the incomplete. Unlike Jean, he would have to settle for second best.  
Scott drifted away in his chair, with Jean sleeping in his lap, and in his dreams he faced his own world, dark and torn as it may be. And he welcomed it.  
  
THE END


End file.
